


Ghost #1

by ArchiveResponcibly



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Audience Participation, Human!Sides, detective!Virgil, ghost!roman
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:40:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23576320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArchiveResponcibly/pseuds/ArchiveResponcibly
Summary: “I don’t… I don’t understand.”Said the boy without what he should haveOh so many years ago----------A'ight, lemme explain. I want this to be audience participation. So, common questions about the poem and I'll write oneshots giving the answer (to the best of my ability).
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

One year

One year ago a staticky video showed up on someone’s doorstep

_ “My name is Roman!”  _

Said the boy with the red-brown hair

_ “Thanks for checking in!” _

Said the boy with the bright, red smile

_ “I’m trying something new.” _

Said the boy with the makeup in his hand

_ “I’d like to blame @Pattoncake for putting this idea in my head.” _

Said the boy with the low, faux glare

_ “Wh-who are you!?” _

Shrieked the boy with fear-stained eyes

Then he disappeared in a cloud of red-grey smoke

_ “What the hell is this!?” _

Cried the boy shaking from the shoulders

_ “9-1-1, what’s the emergency?” _

Asked the boy with sweetness in his voice

_ “I don’t know” _

Replied the boy with the tremoring phone

_ “I don’t… I don’t understand.” _

Said the boy without what he should have

Oh so many years ago

_ “Why can’t he see them?” _

Asked the mother fretfully

_ “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” _

Said the boy who knew he’d messed up

_ “I should have been able… should have figured it out sooner.” _

Said the boy, usually so sarcastic

The other boy said nothing

He floated, stunned, just above the ground

_ “No. Not really.” _

Said the boy with nothing left to lose

_ “No one figured it out. No one found me.” _

This is where their story begins


	2. How did Virgil know Roman?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Question by LivingBreathingGay

A frustrated cry broke the crisp, winter air of a small park, tucked away in the unknowns of Florida. Purple tufts of hair shone navy and blueish in the light of the deep night around it.

Virgil walked purposefully, though moving as slowly as he could.

His brows were knitting in confusion, anger, and complete bewilderment. How does this happen? How did that happen? If he hadn’t watched the video with his own two eyes, he wouldn’t have believed it. 

He was gonna solve this fucking case, goddamnit!

So, here he was, tearing at a cookie with far more vigor than necessary, and trying to think in the tucked away park. He didn’t smile as he worked, an uncommon reaction to something so sweet.

Suddenly, the cookie tasted too sweet.

He rewrapped it, placing the small, sealed baggy in his satchel, and stood back up. The lack of sugar was already dragging at his eyelids, pulling them down like lead weights.

He needed  _ caffeine _ .

He could already hear the voice of his best friend and coworker, Logan Morrow, screeching in his ear for this horrendous decision. Virgil used to drink truckloads of deep black coffee to stay awake, until his anxiety made the energy rush bad. Yet, he pushed in the doors of the still lit cafe.

The fluorescent lights had been softened to a warm yellow, but it still beat painfully against Virgil’s eyelids. He glared around, frustration biting at the back of his neck, to the top of his crown. It left a sour taste in his mouth he didn’t want. He wanted bitter work, sweet victory, the salty knowledge that it wasn’t who he thought. He wanted-

“Black coffee,  _ please _ .” he bit out against his thoughts.

The worker gave him a kind smile and turned to make his drink. It looked too sweet, like the cookie in his bag. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real! The video couldn’t be real, goddamnit.

He took the drink and made his leave.

The park still stung strongly of sugar, of sweet; of the salt in his wounds because he just couldn’t  _ get it _ . So he went to the lake.

The water was cool and crisp, like the air dotting at its surface. Normally, the sight was calming; but right then Virgil held no calm in his screaming veins. He sat down and took a long sip of his piping hot coffee.  _ Too bitter _ ; he thought with a groan. He took out the cookie and took a bite.  _ Too sweet _ ; tears pricked at his eyes.

This cycle went on until he was left with nothing but the smallest cookie crumbs he wouldn’t taste even if he swallowed all of them at once, and drops of his drink that wouldn’t reach his tongue, no matter how vertical he held his cup.

With another moan of disgruntlement, he took out the case file. He didn’t open it, mind you, but merely held the folder in his lap. He looked back up at the water ahead of him, wanting nothing more than to throw the file in.

He moved once again to stop himself.

The willow leaves cocooning his grotto shimmered a deep, blueish green. A voice came from in front of him. “Are you alright?” it asked.

“No. leave me alone.” Virgil bit back fiercely, begging,  _ pleading  _ his words not to shake. “I don’t want  _ help _ , whoever you are,” he added. 

Rustling came from the same spot as the voice. Virgil finally looked up to see a boy with red-brown hair, and warm, brown eyes. He scrambled back quickly.

He stared at that face far too often.

“I’m going crazy.” he muttered, far more to himself than the boy. But it wasn’t just a boy, it was  _ Roman Kingsley. _ It was a dead boy. “You’re dead.” Roman nodded.

“That’s a pretty common side effect of being murdered.” he mused jokingly, walking farther forward and taking a seat in front of Virgil. “Aren’t you expecting this? You must see my kind all the time in your field of work.” 

Virgil, still stunned, shook his head dumbly. “I can’t.” he answered. Part of him noticed his tone, screaming at him to wrinkle his nose and glared. “I  _ don’t _ .” he said instead.

Roman nodded. “Me too.”

**I**

The second time Virgil ran into Roman was just two days later.

The sign for the bus stop was almost completely shrouded in shrubbery, but Virgil knew where it was from months of experience. “Hey, Virgil!” Roman exclaimed, floating over to the other.

Virgil turned away. “You’re not  _ real _ , okay? You’re some figment of my imagination out of this  _ goddamn case _ .” 

Roman sighed, annoyed but understanding, he floated lower, making himself far closer to Virgil’s height. “What if I told you that this was a more common occurrence than you’d think?” he asked.

“I’d scoff at you.” Virgil answered honestly, signature glare in place along his eyes.

Roman gave him a deadpanned look. “Come on, Virge!” he exclaimed, annoyed, but his tone still held a sort of playfulness Virgil couldn’t stand. “Just type it into google.”

“Nicknames already?” the living finally replied, but he pulled out his phone and typed away at it quickly. What he saw surprised him. “No… but  _ how _ ?” he asked, looking back at the ghost, who beamed at him smugly. 

“Still unknown, my friend.” he replied.

“We’re not friends.” Virgil shot back, stuffing his phone in his back pocket and turning towards the bus. Finally, he let out a sigh. “Look, I know you're dead and unhelpful and all-” Roman glared. “But could you help me with this case.”

Roman’s expression turned back to a relieved grin. “Of  _ course _ , Virge. That’s what I’m here for! Come on, I assumed you’d figured that one out.”

“Well,  _ sorry _ , I guess.” Virgil retorted unapologetically. “And no nicknames, this doesn’t make us friends.”

“Oh,  _ fine _ , J.D-lightful, no nicknames.”

“That was a nickname!”

Roman smirked, floating forwards towards the bus as it rounded the corner, stopping in front of Virgil. “You’re no fun.”


	3. How long has Virgil been on the case?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Question by IrisAvontoc

Virgil was pretty sure he was going to scream if this kept up. He sat, curled up at the back of his bed, music turned all the way up, staring blankly through his phone in his hands. Damien and Remus sat in their corners of the dorm room, glaring daggers at one another.

God, how Virgil just wanted to  _ smack  _ them. 

He almost wished they would get into a fight. There was an unspoken agreement on the dorm floor that if you were going to fight your roommate, do it outside. That’s what happened when there were three people to a room. If the rule was broken, you could contact the RA.

But, no; just as Virgil’s luck would have it, they weren’t  _ fighting _ . They were  _ glaring _ , the RA would get more mad at Virgil then Remus and Damien.

Oh, fuck it; he decided, getting up with a loud thud as his feet hit the floor. Damien and Remus turned their glares at him as he scowled at them. “That’s it!” he exclaimed, not worrying if their neighbors could hear him. Honestly, Jason and Teddy would probably kill him if Damien and or Remus didn’t get to him first. “You two deal with your problems, I don’t give two shits how, and I’m going to Remy.”

With that, he strode to the door, phone shoved haphazardly into his pocket and overheads around the back of his neck. Before anyone could yell at him for the noise, he raced to the stairs and left through the front door of the dorm hall

The air outside was crisp, just barely cool enough that it chilled Virgil’s skin under his tattered black and grey hoodie. He didn’t really mind, though, basking in the light of the overcast sky. It wasn’t raining, not yet at least.

He hoped it did.

He trudged along the pathways of east campus, begging not to pass by any other Criminal Justice majors as he went; most of them would recognise him. He just wanted to get to his brother, Remy’s, coffee shop and not deal with his classmates.

“Ah, Virgil, have you checked Mrs. Koto’s site recently? I believe class was canceled.” well,  _ shit _ . 

Logan Morrow, a tall boy with a worse case of resting bitch face than Virgil himself strolled over. “Sup.” the purple haired greeted, begging the frustration to stay out of his voice.

Once again, luck was not on his side. “Are you in an adequate state of mind, Virgil?” Logan’s brow furrowed as he spoke. “You appear frustrated.”  _ I kinda want to smack  _ everyone _ right now, Lo. please leave before I do _ . Virgil wanted to snap.

“Frustrated is a… kind word for it.” he muttered instead. He really,  _ really _ , wanted Logan to leave him alone. He just wanted his brother’s pitch black coffee for the low price of his life and soul. 

“What would be a more appropriate term, then?” Logan pressed.

Virgil groaned. “Look, Lo,” he snapped. “My roommates are fighting-not-fighting,  _ again _ , and I  _ really  _ just want to see Remy right now. I’m probably going to kill someone if I can’t just get some  _ fucking coffee _ ; and I really don’t want it to be you.”

Logan, knowing Virgil as well as he did, gave him a deadpanned look. “That is preposterous, Virgil. Murder is an unecceptable responce to Damien and Remus’s disgruntlement with each others… existence.” Virgil actually snorted at the way Logan’s nose wrinkled up at mentioning the two. “Having said that, I will leave you alone if that is what you require. Do check the class schedule, though.”

_ God, he spoke like he was writing an verbal essay in the air between whoever was dealing with him _ . Virgil sighed, he didn’t  _ like  _ being a dick to his one friend on campus (and the only one that would put up with his bullshit), but he was tired. Damien and Remus had been silently screaming about cleaning up the dorm room for almost a week at that point. Virgil, for the most part, stayed out of their fights by having a mostly clean area.

_ Our room is like a fucking ombre _ . He snorted at the realisation, pushing through the doors to Remy’s coffee shop. Well, it wasn’t his, per say, it was owned by a sweet, old couple that wandered in from time to time. Having said that, Remy ran the place and treated it like his own.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” Remy asked, standing just behind the barista counter. He was scanning the mostly-empty tables from above, like it was his own little kingdom.

“Coffee.” Virgil answered simply. “Hot, bitter coffee. I don’t want taste buds anymore.” Remy snorted, turning to begin. He was used to his brother’s exaggerations and learned to ignore them.  
“And what have they done this time?”

Virgil groaned, loud, low, and long. Another customer looked over at him in confusion, but said nothing. “Damien. Remus.” was all he said in response. Remy nodded and handed over an almost overflowing mug of black coffee. Virgil took a sip. “Too cold.” he complained, but he finished the rest of it in one gulp. 

Remy gaped at him. “I will never understand you, babes.” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head. Virgil flipped him off, pulling out his phone and clicking away. He figured he should at least follow his best friend’s advice, if just as an apology for being a dick earlier.

Though, as he did, a pop up appeared; one he couldn’t click away from. He glared down at it, assuming it would be one of those stupid, clicker, detective games that ignore all actual reasoning and procedures. He snorted at the memory of the first time Logan tried to play one.

His audio was off, thankfully, and the screen filled with the image of a boy around Virgil’s age. He had red-brown hair and eyes, with a palette of makeup held loosely in his right hand. He was glaring, mouth moving with silent words.

Virgil watched in confusion, waiting for the text to pop up saying it was an ad, probably for whatever makeup brand the boy was holding. But none came. What did come, however, was red.

The video turned dark, gory in ways Virgil didn’t want to understand. He screamed, his head was spinning.

_ What  _ is this?

What  _ is  _ this?

What is  _ this _ ?

No answer came. Not in the boy’s racing thoughts, or Remy screaming in his ear. Or the little voice in Virgil’s head that sounded like Logan begging for information.  _ Understanding _ . The word sounded good, maybe just enough for Virgil to recognise himself crying, begging for the police.

H- he was going to  _ know _ . 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it's been so long, I really didn't have many ideas for this chapter; but it's here now!

**Author's Note:**

> I will begin chapters with who commented the question; if you'd rather I didn't with yours, just add that in and I won't mention you.


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